The daytime, however, can still be much fun.
After the initial visiting about, Drew and I camped out on the edge at the Edge, and then tried to make our ways back home. I was grateful for the police presence, as kids were already breaking things, fighting, vomiting in the street, and generally trashing the neighborhood. I was ready to get out of there. Like the Halloweens of years passed, I missed the days when the party wasn't crashed nor the good feelings trashed. I was grateful to have had Wednesday's Day of Decision.
Here's the best way I can think to sum it up: Pink Saturday (and even Pride to some extent) has become like Saint Patrick's Day in Boston or New York: It is a public gathering of thousands of people who are not related to nor live near the community hosting it; the event has little regard for the reason it's happening; and it's become an excuse for early twenty-sometings to binge-drink all day and act with no regard for their surroundings or other people, while also attracting crime and violence. Trade in the green t-shirts and shamrocks for fairy wings and rainbow stockings and you've got Pink Saturday. Although I would guess there are more Irish people at a Saint Patrick's Day party than there were gay people in the Castro on Pink Saturday.
Considering the rampant bad costuming by the B&T kids I stared calling it Burning Man Lite.
Yes, I know I sound like a crotchety old man but really, these amateurs and uninitiated need to get off my lawn.
Another friend said this: "Pink Saturday is now just gaggles of annoying early-20-something straight girls in glitter and costumes who can't hold their liquor and have one gay friend they treat as an accessory." After some conversation we wondered how long before the predatory straight guys recognize this event as an easy rape hunting ground. Nothing to be proud of.
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